“Good evening, everyone. Welcome to Lost in New York, the support group for people who’ve suffered the loss of loved ones. We’re a little smaller tonight, so hopefully we can get more of your discussion time in.”
I watched Ezra’s jaws grind together and reminded myself that as a professional, I used my training to deal with emotional upset. Even if I didn’t want to, I had to give him the same opportunity and respect as any other person off the street who came to the group for help.
“As always, if we have a new member, we like to acknowledge them. Ezra, would you introduce yourself? You don’t have to speak further if you don’t want to.”
Eyes that only moments ago danced with humor now met mine, clouded with pain. “Uh, yeah. I’m Ezra Green, and I’m a talent agent. I moved back to New York after living in California for the past twenty-three years. Seven years ago…” His throat moved convulsively, and in shock, I watched his eyes fill with tears. “Seven years ago, I lost my best friend. He was killed in a freak surfing accident. I’ve always blamed myself.” He hung his head, and we all averted our eyes to give him a moment to collect himself.
My mind raced. Why did Ezra blame himself for what even he called an accident? This must be the man whose ring he wore.
“Why do you blame yourself if it was an accident?” Nate asked, and I braced myself for…I didn’t know what. I hoped that Nate, who could sometimes be unwittingly harsh, would be gentle.
“That morning Dominic and his husband had a terrible fight. He met me on the beach, and we sat and talked for almost an hour. I told him to ride out one last time, then go home and tell Ross how much he loved him. I knew they’d get through it. Dominic loved surfing so much, and I thought it would help him clear his head. Instead it killed him. If I hadn’t told him…” Impatiently, he brushed at his face, and my heart broke for Ezra and the tremendous guilt he carried with him all these years.
I left my seat to be by his side, shedding the role of group leader, thinking only to offer him comfort as his friend. “Ezra, it was an accident. You couldn’t have known what would happen.”
“I keep seeing him run off into the water, and it’s like I sent him to his death.” Ezra broke down, and I couldn’t do anything but hold his shaking body as he cried. “It happened so quickly, I never got the chance to help him, and then I had to call Ross and tell him his husband was dead.”
“I’m sure you did the best you could.” I rubbed his back as he sought to regain control.
“It was the worst thing I’ve ever had to do. I still have nightmares about it. And yet I’m a terrible person because I feel like I’ve never had a chance to grieve him myself. I had to be strong for Ross.”
Who knew he carried such pain inside him? Hearing him relay the story almost shattered me. I couldn’t imagine Ezra’s pain. Shame stole through me at the careless jab I’d thrown at him before the meeting, not knowing it was a stab to his heart. I might be the leader of this group, but I was now a participant, and it hurt to open my chest and let him in.
I stood and, taking Ezra’s hand in mine, faced the group, who watched us with avid, curious eyes.
“Would you excuse us for a second?”
They all nodded, and I took Ezra to the corner of the room, out of earshot from the others.
“Roe, what’s going on?”
“I’m sorry, Ezra. I apologize for being so cruel earlier.” I’d never regretted my words more.
His eyes reddened and damp, he drew in a shuddering breath. I gave him all the time he needed. “You couldn’t have known.”
“I’m trained to recognize when someone’s hurting, and the fact that you’ve been holding this inside for so long devastates me.” I brushed the hair off his face. “I feel like I’ve failed you.”
“Maybe I should see you professionally.” Even through his pain, the devil twinkled in his eyes. And in that moment I knew unequivocally what I had to say.
“It wouldn’t be ethical.”
His golden brows drew together. “What do you mean? You see patients, don’t you?” I rested a hand on his shoulder. “A doctor isn’t supposed to treat someone he’s personally involved with.” I watched the light dawn in his eyes. “And if you’re my fake boyfriend, I can’t be your doctor.”
He brushed away the streaks of tears remaining on his cheeks. “No, I guess you can’t.”
Chapter Seventeen
The rest of the meeting passed in a haze of confusion. I accepted the condolences and attempts to cheer me up from the members of the group, and though I smiled and thanked everyone, it did little to alleviate the pain Dominic’s death always brought me.
Roe wrapped up the meeting, and when we were walking out together, he put a hand on my arm. “Hold up a sec?”
I shrugged but waited until everyone passed. At night the church sat hushed, as dark and somber as my mood. After the last good-bye from the group, Roe leaned against the wall outside the meeting room, his shadow reaching long and black on the scuffed wooden floor.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were hurting so badly? That’s an incredible amount of guilt to carry inside you all these years.”
I couldn’t face him and hung my head, studying the worn floor. “I’ve talked to Ross about it, and he’s tried to tell me it wasn’t my fault, but it’s hard for me to accept when I was the one who told him to take that last ride out.”
“Stop.” He cupped my cheek and forced my eyes to meet his. “You’re tearing yourself apart, and for what purpose? It can’t bring your friend back. Ross is right. There isn’t a person alive who doesn’t carry regret with them. Dominic may have died, but by sharing stories of his life, you keep him alive in your heart.”
